The bowls season begins!!!

The smell of the fresh-cut grass; the ‘clunk’ of the colliding woods; the gentle and friendly handshakes at the end…

I have looked forward to this moment all winter. Things have gone a bit tits up with various professional stuff recently, and I have been a bit stressed out an’ stuff, and there is nothing quite like a relaxing game of bowls to ease one’s mind back into the pleasures of the English countryside.

“And so I started chasing… well I sort of went after him,” I explain later to the Police Sergeant, choosing my words carefully. He glances at his Constable for support. “I have to say I was pretty pumped up.”

Big A nods in agreement. “That’s when we rang you.”

The Police Sergeant alternately shakes his head and shrugs. “I can only apologise we weren’t there sooner,” he offers. “If we’d have got the message from Control…”

Nobody asks me what I was planning to do if I’d have caught the chap. I cast a nervous eye at my bag, which contains four very heavy bowls woods.

Related

Post navigation

32 thoughts on “The bowls season begins!!!”

“Pumped up” or “plumped up”, Jonny? No wonder your mystery miscreant made tracks, seeing Mr Blobby lumbering after him with his swaying sack of balls. Can’t help feeling you might be compensating for something there, my boy…

The game of bowls being, obviously, a cultural metaphor dating back to ancient day when one’s vanquished foes were beheaded, shrunk and were tossed about in a game that took the place of real battles – sort of a cross between conkers and marbles – where the winner won the spoils without actually fighting. Erm. Ahmmm. Allegedly. 🙂

Yo got a Police Sergeant to you! And he apologised!!! (Albeit about their controlers). You must of done/had done somthing really minor. Police Sergeants dont usually deal with big stuff.
Was he driving on his own(lost)or just happend to be with a nice new female college out in the middle of nowhere?

I’m in a state of shock that someone who plays bowls is able to run. Not one to adhere to stereotypes but I live in a town where bowls is a major past time (they hold some sort of championship here every year and I think there was a version of a world cup a couple of years ago), not one of the bowls players I have come across is able to walk at more than a crawl let alone run. Are you sure you weren’t just walking a little fast?

gently steaming yak I live in the midlands I’m going to hide under the covers as it would seem not even the sea side is safe from the bowls madness. I may have to emmigrate, shame I always liked the sausages in the UK.

not the same place at all then sarahp! i live in worthing which has a higher than necessary number of doddering old gimmers at the best of times, when the bowlers come to town for the tournament its like a (slightly more literal) remake of night of the living dead!

Next you’ll be telling us that bowls isn’t the preserve of the tea-sipping grey brigade – and thatit’s an exciting, action-packed sport full of incident and intrigue that appeals to people of all ages.
As if…

VERY upset that I spend ONE DAY away from the computer and CHICKEN RELATED PUNS have started to appear. CHICKEN PUNS (especially the ‘egg for ex’ transposition) are the LOWEST OF THE LOW and will never be wecome on this SERIOUS CHICKEN RELATED INTERNET DIARY.

Oh well… a couple of friends read the PSD. It’s P rather than S – just because it’s more enjoyable that way for all sorts of reasons. You don’t need to worry about people misunderstanding you, an’ all that. The chickens, however, do not read, and I live in constant fear of being ‘outed’ to them.

Have you put a mirror in their run – recommended – I happened to have one from the inside of an old wardrobe door which is now fastened along the bottom of one side of the run. The chooks spend ages titivating in front of it.